What We Didn't See
by starg8fans
Summary: Not my usual genre. I only watched S2 for Tom Hiddleston. And as a great fan of h/c & medical procedures I was very disappointed not to see more of William's treatment and recovery after the explosion. So trying to fill the gaps here. Fits in between Mr. Buxton saying he called for the surgeon, and Peggy finding William asleep. Can be read without knowing the show, details inside.
1. Introduction

**_Author's Note: _**_It's not necessary to have seen the show to read this fic. To get some background info I highly recommend the wonderful fanvid _'Yellow - William Buxton &amp; Peggy Bell' _by thedothatgirl on Youtube. Sorry, I'm not permitted to post the link here._

Mr. Buxton almost wore a trail into the carpet while he waited for the surgeon to emerge from William's room. The doctor had been quite adamant that no immediate family members should be present while he was assessing and treating the young man's injuries. The only person he permitted to assist him was the housekeeper since she had experience from working in field hospitals as an army nurse.

They had been in there for almost two interminable hours. Mr. Buxton had heard his son cry out a few times, and as much as it pained him that his only child was in such agony at least it gave him hope that he was still alive.

Finally the door opened and the surgeon stepped out. He had shed his coat and waistcoat, his sleeves were pushed back and he was drying his hands on a towel which showed traces of blood. Mr. Buxton paled when he saw more blood splattered over the doctor's shirtfront.

"How... how is he, doctor?"

The physician put a comforting hand on the old man's shoulder. "He is a very lucky young man to be alive. Given the extent of his injuries he must have been quite close to the blast."

Mr. Buxton had to bite his lip to stop an anguished sound from escaping him.

"Tell me the truth, doctor. Will he live?"

The surgeon looked at him earnestly. "I have stabilised him for now, and in spite of his serious condition I expect him to pull through - provided no complications arise."

"What kind of... complications?"

"Well, he has a concussion and a compound fracture of his left arm, which caused heavy blood loss. He also broke a couple of ribs, but whether or not they pierced his lung is hard to say at the moment. The same applies to other internal injuries. They are almost impossible to diagnose in the early stages. There are contusions and significant bruising all over his body, but how deep it goes and if it has affected any organs only time will tell. Your son will have to be very closely monitored, especially for signs of respiratory distress, and will require a lot of care and nursing if he is to recover completely."

"Well, I am sure nobody is better equipped than Mrs. Hargrave to deliver..."

"Your housekeeper has assisted me very ably," interrupted the physician, "but she cannot provide the care William needs. When he wakes he will be disoriented due to the concussion, and it will help to have a kind, familiar face around, somebody with whom he shares an emotional bond rather than a member of the household staff. Can you think of anybody who would fit that bill?"

Mr. Buxton sighed. "Well, there is this young woman in town. William proposed to her against my express wishes, and we had a falling out over it. Much as it irks me, I could ask her..."

"No," the surgeon said decisively. "We must keep any kind of stress or anguish from William in his current state. He will need every bit of strength he has to pull through. And I'm afraid the fact that you and he are not on good terms at the moment disqualifies you from sitting with him as well. Consider somebody else, Mr. Buxton."

The old man was actually relieved that he would not have to open his doors to Peggy Bell. And the alternative was obvious. "In that case I will ask Erminia to return. She is William's cousin and my ward; they are as close as siblings and very good friends."

"Excellent!" the doctor exclaimed. "I have administered a sedative to help William sleep through the night. Setting the bone was quite an ordeal for your son, and although he was not fully conscious the pain has exhausted him. I will return first thing in the morning. Mrs Hargrave has received detailed instructions how to care for him in the meantime, and I strongly suggest not to disturb her and the patient."

"Of course, I understand." Mr Buxton tried to be reasonable, but then the worry over his only child broke his composure. "Can I not see him, just for a moment?" It was a desperate plea, and the surgeon did not have the heart to deny the worried parent.

"Just for a moment, and only from a distance. It is also imperative not to make a sound." Mr. Buxton nodded eagerly and followed the physician into Willam's chamber.

The room was quite dark, only a single candle was burning on the nightstand so as not to disturb the patient's much needed rest while still allowing the nurse to check on her charge. William was reclining on the bed, his blond curls creating a halo around a face that was almost translucent in its paleness. Long lashes lay over dark smudges under his eyes. The left arm was swaddled in bandages, propped up by several pillows, and encased in a brace. His torso was bare, and his father could see the edge of bandages strapping his ribs peeking out from under the cover. William lay completely still, and only the shallowest rise and fall of his chest was proof that he still lived.

It cost Mr. Buxton an enormous amount of willpower not to approach the bed and wrap his son in his arms, telling him to keep fighting and that everything would be alright. So he just stood there staring until the physician lightly touched his arm and motioned to him that it was time to leave. With a last longing look and a quick prayer that the Lord may keep William in his care tonight Mr. Buxton obeyed.


	2. Part 1: The surgeon

**_Author's_**_** Note**__: Welcome back, if you're still reading. The story is finished, so updates will come quickly and regularly. If there's anything you like (or even dislike) in particular, I'd be happy to hear it._

The surgeon was true to his word and arrived at daybreak. He noticed immediately that Mr. Buxton had not slept since last evening. Not only was he still wearing the same clothes as the day before, but he looked exhausted and disheveld, which was very unusual for this always proper and correct man, and a clear indication of the worry which gnawed at him. The physician decided that he would give the him a stern talking to once he was finished checking on the son. He feared that he would have another patient on his hands unless he could convince the father to get some rest.

The greeting was brief, this was not a social call and both men were eager to find out how the patient was faring. The doctor deemed it too cruel to let Mr. Buxton wait outside the door, so he sent him to the kitchen to have some beef broth prepared and kept warm for the time William would waken. It would help to replenish the fluids and minerals from the blood loss. Happy to have a task which made him feel less useless Mr Buxton left.

Mrs. Hargrave was still holding vigil by William's bedside, and rose from her chair at the arirval of the surgeon.

"I'm glad you're here, sir. He has yet to wake, but he's been restless for the past hour or so. I think he's in pain. But I did not want to give him anything for it without your permission."

"You've done well, Mrs. Hargrave. I need him to wake up, if only briefly, so I can assess the state of his concussion and get some nourishment into him. If his brain functions are satisfactory he can have some Laudanum afterwards to help him rest." The physician sat down on the side of the bed and took William's wrist to count his heartbeat. He frowned when he found the pulse elevated, and pushing some damp curls from the patient's face he put a hand on his forehead to check for a fever. William rolled his head to the side and moaned softly at the contact. His brow was furrowed and his lips compressed into a thin line.

"His temperature is higher than I'd like it to be, but he's not running a fever. Did he manage to take any liquids during the night?"

Mrs. Hargrave nodded. "Yes, sir. I offered him water whenever he seemed to be a little more alert, and he managed a few sips at a time."

"Hmm. This may just be a result of the trauma and the discomfort, but it could also signal the onset of an infection." He cast a look at William's heavily bandaged arm. "We will have to tread a very fine line here. On the one hand the arm should be disturbed as little as possible to allow the bones to knit; on the other hand the wound will have to be disinfected on a regular basis." The doctor thought for a moment. "I think it would be best to leave the arm in the brace but cut the bandage at the top and leave the wound open. That will provide easy access without the need to unwrap and rewrap it every time. The surtures I put in last night will keep it closed, there is really no need for it to be covered. Will you hand me the small scissors from my bag, please?"

Mrs. Hargrave obeyed, and the surgeon proceeded to cut through the thick material. The doctor found the bandages to be unexpectedly snug; William's arm seemed to have swollen further during the night. It was unavoidable that the scissors would put some pressure on the injured limb while cutting. The young man gave a low whimper and tried to pull the arm away. The movement caused the broken bones to grind against each other, and William's eyes flew open with a strangled cry. His still unfocused gaze scanned his surroundings in obvious panic, and the physician quickly dropped the scissors to put restraining hands on his patient's shoulders to stop him from moving too much.

"It's alright, son, you're safe. Please try to stay still."

William tried bravely to focus on the figure in front of him. The effort caused a blinding flash of pain in his head, and he closed his eyes again with a groan. Still, the voice and the silhuette he had seen brought recognition to his foggy mind.

"Doc... tor?"

"Yes, William, it is I." The physician was well pleased that the young man had recognized him so readily. It was a welcome sign that the concussion was not serious.

"What... happ..." William's strength failed him, and the surgeon quickly told the housekeeper to fetch the broth he had ordered earlier. It was uncertain how long the young man would stay conscious, and it was important to get some nourishment into him while they had the chance. When the woman had bustled from the room the surgeon turned to his patient again, and helped him take a few sips of water. This seemed to revive the young man enough for the doctor to continue his interrogation.

"I'd much rather hear from you what happened."

"Not... sure."

"Try to remember," the physician urged him. He needed to know if there was any short-term memory loss.

William frowned in concentration. "Followed the... train..." he finally said. "It crashed... _Peggy_!" With surprising strength the young man grabbed the doctor's arm with his good hand. His wide eyes frantically searched the other man's face. "Is she safe? Did... did she get... far... enough..." The last word was just a faint breath, his last reserves exhausted. He fell back into the pillows gasping for breath; the bandage that strapped his ribs was too tight to allow his lungs to expand fully.

Fearing a panic attack, the doctor tried his best to soothe the frantic young man. "Shush, son, calm yourself. The young lady is fine, no need to worry. She looked after you on the cart which brought you back from the site of the accident. Slow, easy breaths now, and no more talking. You need to save your strength." It appeared he had found the right words, because William's breathing began to even out and his drawn features relaxed.

At that moment Mrs. Hargrave returned with the requested broth, and together they managed to feed most of the bowl's content to William. The young man was already half asleep again towards the end, but the surgeon still added a few drops of Laudanum to the last spoonfuls. What he had to do next would be very painful, and he wanted at least to take the edge off the ordeal of having the wound cleaned.


	3. Part 2: William

_**Author's Note:**__ This chapter delivers on the Hurt with a capital H. Nothing too graphic, but I like to make my heroes suffer. So much more room for Comfort then._

When the drug kicked in William felt like he was floating in his own mind. It was a strange sensation, not so much like a dream but rather like a trip down memory lane. Flashes of the past came and went - many of them involving Peggy. And suddenly he found himself back on that overturned train carriage, desperately reaching for Peggy's hand. He experienced once more the relief that flooded him as their fingers finally met and he was able to haul her from the compartment. She appeared dazed but seemed unharmed except for a cut across her palm. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go again, but he knew that it was not safe around the crashed train.

After dropping Peggy to the ground as gently as he could, and watching her stagger away from the wreck per his instructions, William turned around to look for more survivors. Strangely, time appeared to be slowing down as if his brain did not really want to face what was coming next. It felt as if he was moving through treacle as he made his way along the top of the carriage, checking the compartments below for any trapped passengers, towards the front end where he stopped. From his vantage point he could see into the cabin of the train engine, where the stoker lay bleeding, trapped under a heavy metal beam. His frightened gaze met William's eyes, and he held out an arm in supplication.

William knew the risk involved in trying to save this man. The steam tank of the engine might very well explode at any minute. But he could not leave the stoker to his fate without at least trying. While William was standing there considering his options he felt something cool slide up inside his left sleeve. He frowned and looked down, but there was nothing there which would explain the strange sensation. Shaking his head, he concentrated once again on the task at hand. It was just a short drop to the coal tender below, and William sat down on the edge of the carriage, getting ready to lower himself.

At that moment everything stopped, the moment frozen in time as if his mind refused to let him go any further. He strained to move but his muscles would not obey him. Then suddenly a searing pain erupted in his arm; he screamed, and as if on cue the events started picking up again at incredible speed. He felt the heat of the explosion before his eyes registered the fireball, or his ears heard the thunderous roar. The blast sent him backwards, tumbling head over heels across the top of the carriage until he fell off the side. The impact on the ground drove the air from his lungs, and he heard a sharp crack as he landed on his left arm with his full body weight. But he did not feel the hurt, because his arm had been on fire all along.

Sobbing with pain he tried to roll over on his side to cradle the burning limb, but he felt restraining hands holding him back. He tried to fight them, thrashing as much as his weakened body would permit, and with desperate determination he managed to lift his shoulders a few inches off the ground. This small victory made him struggle all the harder, but then suddenly something snapped in his chest and a stabbing pain that tore through his insides took his breath away. He fell back with a strangled cry. Still fighting to draw air into his starving lungs he felt the grip of the hands on his shoulders tighten, and then another flash of liquid fire erupted in his arm. William was almost thankful when a black void opened up to claim him.

_\- 0 - 0 - 0 -_

When William became bonelessly limp and ceased his struggles Mrs. Hargrave reluctantly pulled her hands away from his shoulders. There were tears in her eyes, and she surreptitiously wiped them away with the back of her hand. It would not do if the doctor saw her, a mere employee, shed tears over a member of the family. It just wasn't proper. She had only been with the Buxtons for a couple of years; she had loved her work as an army nurse, but she was getting on in years and had to find a less taxing occupation. It did not take long for William to win her motherly affection with his open and friendly manner, his kind heart and his idealism. To see him in such pain and having to forcibly hold his writhing form down simiply broke her heart. She was so lost in her grief over what he had to suffer that she did not even hear when the doctor spoke her name.

"Mrs. Hargrave?" The surgeon was surprised when he had to repeat the housekeeper's name to get a reaction. So far the woman had been of exemplary attention and diligence. But then he remembered that she had been up all night watching over the patient.

"I'm so sorry, sir, my mind must have wandered there for a moment."

"No need to apologize, my good woman, you must be exhausted after your vigil. But as far as I know a young lady will arrive today, a cousin of our William, who will be able to help you out with the nursing." He looked at his pocket watch. "I'm glad you'll have somebody to assist you. I have a full slate of calls today, so I will have to leave the patient in your care until the evening."

"Oh, that's quite alright, sir. I'm used to sitting up all night with the wounded from my time at the field hospital. We are only expecting Miss Erminia around teatime, but I will be fine until then."

The physician nodded and handed Mrs. Hargrave the bottle of disinfectant which he had just poured over the wound on William's arm. The cloth he used to pat it dry came away bloody, and he leaned forward to check for any signs of infection. The rims of the surtured gash were puffy and pink but that was well within normal range for a ragged injury such as this. Satisfied, the doctor sat back up.

"No sign of infection so far. Hopefully we'll be able to keep it at bay. The disinfectant should be applied twice a day, morning and night. You can carry out the procedure when I'm not here, but I suggest you let somebody assist you and hold him down. I don't want him to move too much just yet."

Mrs. Hargrave nodded. "Should I continue to give him Laudanum before I clean his arm?"

"Only if he needs it for pain in general. Luckily the treatment should become less agonizing as the wound heels." They both looked at the young man, and when the housekeeper saw the sweat that was beading on his forehead from his ealier struggle she took a piece of cloth from the bedside table and gently wiped it away. "It is a credit to you as a nurse, Mrs. Hargrave, that you wish to spare a patient suffering. But remember, Laudanum can be a blessing, but it can easily turn into a curse. Addiction comes very quickly so it should only be applied when absolutely necessary."

"I understand, sir. You can rely on me."

"I know I can." The surgeon gave her an encouraging smile. "Now please hand me my stethoscope, I want to check his lungs before I go."

When listening to William's chest the doctor was glad that he found no indication of fluid building up in the lungs. For a moment he debated whether he should listen to his back as well, but then decided that moving the patient would probably do more harm than good. When he returned in the evening this omission could be remedied. Also, he would have two helpers then, which would make it easier to support William during the maneuver. The physician also palpitated the young man's abdomen and found no signs of resistance which could have indicated internal bleeding.

When the surgeon left the sickroom he found Mr. Buxton waiting outside the door. He had expected nothing less, and was glad that he had good news to give.

"William is holding up very well. He has a slight temperature, but the wound and his vital signs are not giving us any cause for concern so far."

Mr. Buxton visibly relaxed at this positive report. "I am very grateful to you, doctor. When will it be possible for me to see him again?"

"He's unconscious right now, so not really suited to have visitors." When the physician saw the flash of worry on the father's face he quickly added, "This is no cause for alarm, I had to submit your son to a rather painful but necessary procedure, and his body shut down to protect itself from the hurt."

The old man shuddered. "Yes, I heard him scream. It was terrible."

"Sometimes a cure can be just as painful as the original injury, or even more so. But he's on the road to recovery, and I promise you as soon as your son is a bit stronger and more alert I will let you speak with him. Unless..." The physician cast a stern look at Mr. Buxton. "... you wear yourself out with worry. You must promise me to get some rest today, and a good night's sleep later on. There is nothing you can do, and your son is well cared for in Mrs. Hargrave's capable hands."

Mr. Buxton agreed to this demand with a sigh before accompanying the surgeon to the door.


	4. Part 3: Erminia

_**Author's Note: **__ I may have taken some liberty with medical issues here, but sometimes you have to tweak the facts to fit the story. This is fiction after all._

Everybody was surprised when not too long after lunch a horse-drawn farmer's cart arrived in front of the house; and they were even more surprised when they realized it was Erminia who was climbing from the rickety vehicle. She handed the lad who'd been driving a few coins, which he accepted gratefully by doffing his cap. By that time Mr. Buxton had arrived on the scene and greeted his ward warmly.

"My dear, we did not expect you until later in the afternoon - and not with such a mode of transport!"

"Oh uncle, I just did not have the patience to wait for the connecting train, I wanted to be here as quickly as possible. So I flagged down this young man who agreed to drive me." She put her hands on her lower back and arched her spine while pulling a face. "I had no idea how bumpy and uncomfortable these things are. I'll be black and blue, I'm sure. And will require a cushion on my chair. But I'm glad I'm here. Take me to William at once, I need to see with my own eyes that he managed to survive this explosion! How ever did he manage to get mixed up in something like that?"

Mr. Buxton did not try to interrupt her chatter. He knew it for what it was, nervousness in what kind of state she would find her beloved cousin. He signaled for the footman to bring in Erminia's bag and led her into the house. Outside William's bedroom door he stopped.

"Mrs. Hargrave is with him. She has medical experience and has been invaluable. But she needs to be relieved at times, that's why I asked you to come. Go on ahead, my dear. She will tell you everything you need to know."

Her hand already on the door handle Erminia frowned. "Are you not coming in with me?"

Mr Buxton shook his head. "The surgeon advised against it. William and I have not been on the best of terms lately, and my presence might upset him."

Erminia sighed. She could imagine only too well what their disagreement was about. But she was not going to add to her uncle's worry by bringing up the sore subject of Peggy. Instead she briefly put a hand on her uncle's arm before stepping into the room.

When the door opened Mrs. Hargrave put away her darning and started to rise, but Erminia just shook her head with barely a glance the the housekeeper. She only had eyes for William. He looked so young and fragile lying there. His face was as white as the sheets, but two spots of red burned on his cheekbones. And he seemed to be in pain, his face was drawn and his hands twitched on the coverlet. She stepped closer and pulled in a sharp breath when she saw his left arm lying in its nest of cut bandages in the cradle of the brace. It was bruised and swollen, and a nasty gash was running along the top, held together by black surtures. For a moment Erminia felt faint, but then she called herself a silly goose and steeled herself. William needed her, and she would not let him down.

Mrs. Hargrave had watched the young woman closely. She knew what the the sight of blood and injury did to some women, especially that protected kind of the upper class. Of course she had noticed how Erminia's face had gone pale there for a moment and had been prepared to catch her if she fainted - but then the girl had rallied. The housekeeper nodded to herself; Erminia would do.

The young woman sat down on the side of the bed and took her cousin's uninjured hand in hers. William shifted and moaned softly and she quickly let go again.

"Did I hurt him?"

"No, Miss, but even when they're uncoscious they can be aware of their environment. Talk to him, so he knows it's you. It will do him good to know you are here."

For the first time since she'd entered the room Erminia looked at the housekeeper.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Hargrave, where are my manners. A good day to you."

"No need to apologize, Miss, Master William should be your first concern."

"His hand feels warm, and he looks feverish."

"When the doctor was here this morning he said it's just a temperature, and that it was not high enough to be worrysome."

Erminia noticed the sunken cheeks and the tired lines around the older woman's eyes.

"How long have you been watching over him?"

"Ever since he was brought in yesterday evening."

"You must get some rest then. Just tell me what I should do, and I shall sit with him."

In spite of her assurances to the physician Mrs. Hargrave had to admit that she was nearing the end of her endurance. She showed Erminia the bottle of Laudanum and told her how many drops to administer if the pain started to make William restless to the point of thrashing about. She also instructed her to offer him water to drink whenever he was more conscious, and to watch for signs of respiratory distress.

"His breathing seems a bit labored now," Erminia declared.

"That is not unusal. When a patient is lying prone without sitting up for a long time fluid tends to accumulate in their lungs. When the doctor comes back tonight we'll raise Master William up and apply rubbing alcohol to his back. That will make him breathe deeply and should remedy his condition. The warning sign is when a patient starts to wheeze or cough wetly. In that case you'll have to call for help immediately."

Erminia nodded, then settled herself in the armchair by the bed which the housekeeper had vacated. "I'll watch him closely. You go and get some rest, Mrs. Hargrave."

"Thank you, Miss. I will be back in a few hours, at the latest when the doctor returns."

The housekeeper dropped her a curtsey and left. For a while Erminia was content just to sit there watching her sleeping cousin. But then her mind grew restless. She reached for a book that was lying on the bedside table. It was a collection of poems by Robert Burns, one of Williams favorite writers. Remembering the housekeeper's words she started to read out aloud, hoping her voice could get through and the familiar words and rhymes would help ease the young man's mind.

Hours passed and there was no change in William's condition. The room started to grow dim as the sun drew closer to the horizon. Erminia yawned. Her journey had been long and tiring, the stuffiness of the room made her drowsy, and the armchair was so comfortable. She rested her head against the back of the chair and decided to close her eyes just for a moment...

\- 0 - 0 - 0 -

A loud exclamation brought Erminia out of her slumber with a start, just in time to see Mrs. Hargrave rush to William's side. The sun had set and the room was quite dark, but the housekeeper quickly lit the oil lamp on the bedside table. The sight that greeted the young woman when the light illuminated William's face would haunt her for the rest of her days. Eyes wide open and panic stricken the young man was desperately gasping for breath, his hands clawing at his own throat. That he had managed to lift the heavy brace from the bed with his broken arm was almost inconceivable and must have been excruciatingly painful; but clearly he had lacked the breath to make any sound.

"Oh God, what's wrong, what's happening to him?" Erminia cried out.

"Punctured lung," Mrs. Hargrave threw over her shoulder. She had seen her fair share of this condition in the field and recognized the symptoms immediately.

Erminia buried her face in her hands. "It's all my fault, I fell asleep and he..."

"This is no time for self-recrimination," Mrs. Hargrave snapped. "Send someone for the surgeon, and come back immediately. I will need your help. QUICKLY!"

Without taking offense at the housekeeper's brusk manner and commanding tone Erminia flew from the room, shouting for her uncle before she'd even reached the door. By the time she returned Mrs. Hargrave had the covers pulled back and William's shoulders wrapped in a firm grip in preparation for pulling him upright. Before the young woman could say anything she called out to her, "Grab all the pillows you can, and stuff them behind his back when I sit him up."

Erminia grabbed two pillows, ready to do as told. But when the housekeeper lifted William from the bed and she caught sight of his back she cried out in horrror. "He's bleeding!"

"What? But..." Mrs. Hargrave pulled the patient against her chest and William's head lolled to the side and came to rest on her shoulder. She was shocked at how hot he felt to the touch. Cradling him in one arm she used her other hand to push some of his damp blonde curls aside so she could peek down his back. Indeed, the bandages around his ribcage were saturated in caked blood. For a moment she was puzzled since they had not found any wounds there during the examination the night before, but then she remembered how William had fought her hold earlier, and how he had cried out before succumbing to her. Her expression turned grim.

"He broke some ribs, and one of them must have come apart when he was struggling earlier. One end tore through the skin, and it appears the other injured his lung. Oh dear, we should have realized..." Remembering her own words from earlier she broke off to attend to the business at hand.

"Stuff those pillows behind his back. The wound is already closed, it doesn't need immediate attention. We have to ease his breathing first."

After they had settled William against the supporting pillows in a more upright position he did have slightly less trouble drawing breath. His eyes had fallen shut and his arms had relaxed at his sides, but his chest was still heaving, and there was an ominous gurgling sound every time his lungs inflated.

"What now?" Erminia asked. She noticed that her hands were shaking like leaves, and quickly clasped them in front of her waist.

"Now we hope that the surgeon gets here in time." Mrs. Hargrave did not feel the need to sugarcoat the situation. They were both at fault that William was fighting for his life now, and she was determined to make it right for him - sparing somebody's feelings did not figure in this equation.

Erminia flinched at the unspoked implication. "But... but he's getting better, isn't he?"

"The relief is only temporary." Years of training newly arrived nurses kicked in, and she went on to explain, "When a lung is damaged there are two things that can happen. Fluid can get into the lung, or air escapes into the chest cavity. Both conditions are life threatening because they obstruct breathing. I can't tell which one of them is the case here. Getting Master William upright helped because it concentrates the fluids or the air in a smaller area, giving the lung more room to do its work. But it will get progressively worse again - unless you open up his chest to let the obstruction escape. And that's why we need the surgeon."

While he housekeeper was speaking Erminia's folded hands had slowly risen until they covered her mouth in horror. Seeing the young woman's distress Mrs. Hargrave regretted her candid words, and was just about to follow them with something more reassuring when they heard hoofbeats in the courtyard below. Erminia rushed to the window, hoping to see the doctor arriving, but it was just the groom who had been sent to fetch him - and he was returning alone.


	5. Part 4: Mrs Hargrave

_**Author's Note: **__I've decided to up the rating to a T for this chapter, just to be safe.____There will be a surgical procedure, but nothing too descriptive - I think._

It wasn't long until the door opened and Mr. Buxton entered. There was no way he would be kept from his son's sickroom during the current crisis. The sight of William resting against a mound of pillows, fighting to draw each labored breath caused his father's step to falter, but only for a moment. He quickly regained his composure and turned to Mrs. Hargrave.

"I am afraid I have bad news. The doctor was called to a breech birth with mortal danger to mother and child, and it will likely take several hours until he returns." He stepped up to the bed and looked down at his suffering son. "Will he last that long?"

"I doubt it, sir." The housekeeper quickly repeated what she had told Erminia earlier.

Mr. Buxton nodded. "You seem to have intimate knowledge of this condition and of the procedure to treat it. Are you prepared to operate on him yourself if need be?"

A worried frown appeared on Mrs. Hargrave's face. "I have only assisted but never undertaken this measure myself. It is a very delicate task, and I'm not sure I am qualified to..."

"I have complete faith in you. It appears fate has brought you and your medical knowledge to us for just this occasion. William's life may be lying in your hands."

The housekeeper stood up straighter. "Alright, sir, if there is no alternative. But these cases are never clear cut, he may very well be able to hold out long enough, or the birth could go faster than anticipated. I sincerely hope that I won't..."

She was interrupted by William, who was shaken by a violent coughing fit which left his lips flecked with red. Erminia quickly jumped to his side, supporting him when further coughs racked his body. When it was finally over she lowered his head back against the pillows and noticed to her surprise that his eyes were open.

"William! Can you hear me? Do you need anything? Tell me how I can help!" she urged him. She could hear the other two hurrying over to join her, but William's gaze had found hers and she refused to step aside and break the connection. His lips were moving but he obviously had trouble speaking.

"Can't... breathe..." he finally manged before another cough tore from him. He wrapped his good arm around his chest and locked eyes with hers again before he whispered, "Hurts..."

" I know, darling, you must be in terrible pain, and we have something to give you for it, don't we, Mrs Hargrave?"

Erminia turned to the housekeeper, but the older woman slowly shook her head. "I'm afraid we can't risk it. Look, his lips are already turning blue. Giving him Laudanum may stop his breathing altogether." She bit her lip. "He's coughing up blood, so now I know that it's fluid in his lung which is obstructing his air. Which in a way is good news. The procedure to drain it is somewhat less delicate than releasing trapped air. And I don't think we should wait much longer."

Erminia was horrified. "But you said you'd have to operate, and now he's conscious, how..."

"That will do, Erminia." Mr. Buxton resolutely pushed her aside and sat down on the edge of William's bed. "Son, I've always been truthful with you, so listen carefully. Your life is in danger, but Mrs. Hargrave here knows the procedure that can save you. It will be invasive and painful, but Erminia and I will be with you every step of the way. Do you understand me?"

William's eyes looked enormous in his sunken face, but in spite of the terror that lurked in them he nodded.

"Good boy." Mr. Buxton quickly wrapped his hand around his son's arm and gave it a comforting squeeze. Then he turned to Mrs. Hargrave. "What do you require?"

"A sharp knife with a slender blade and a funnel with a long, narrow spout. Both of them need to be put in a pot of water and boiled for at least ten minutes. Bring them here still in the pot with the hot water along with some strong alcohol, a stack of towels, a bucket or pan and some fishing line. I have a needle right here."

Erminia couldn't suppress a whimper at the gruesome list, but caught herself immediately. She knew William would be frantic with apprehension already, and she did not want to add to his terror. Mr. Buxton nodded grimly and left to fetch the required materials. Erminia quickly took his seat by William's side and grasped his hand in hers.

"Everything will be alright. And as soon as you're healed, we will take the horses on a long ride to that pond in the forest you love so much; and we'll bring a picnic, and catch butterflies and have a lovely day, won't we?" She was quite proud of herself that there was barely a tremor in her voice, when it was all she could do not to break down and bawl her eyes out. She was rewarded with a ghost of a smile from William and a weak twitch of his fingers as he tried to return her firm grip.

Mrs. Hargrave had watched the exchange with a heavy heart. Widowed early in life, her marriage had never been blessed with children. But she could not deny that William brought out her motherly instincts. She hated to interrupt the young man's tender moment with his cousin, but there was work to do.

"I will need your help, Miss," she said.

"Of course." Erminia gave William what she hoped was an encouraging smile and rose from her seat. "What can I do?"

"For a start, we need to remove the bandage around his chest in preparation for the operation," Mrs. Hargrave explained to Erminia. "I prefer to cut it rather than unwind it, and since it's so tight the best place is along the dip of the spine. So we need to roll him over on his side - slowly and carefully, and without putting too much pressure on his broken ribs."

Working in tandem the two women managed the maneuver without too much trauma for the patient. Using a pair of slender sewing scissors the housekeeper cut through the material and tried to peel it back. One side came away without problems, but the other half covered the gash the broken rib had made, and the caked blood had stuck the linen to the wound. Mrs. Hargrave used a cloth and the water from her tea kettle to soak the material so it would release its hold on the young man's skin, while Erminia sat on the other side of the bed, running her fingers through William's hair and talking to him in a low voice to try and take his mind off the situation.

When the housekeeper was finally able to remove the bandage from the wound bits of scab came off as well, and she frowned when she realized that the blood that began to seep out was mixed with pus. It was unusual for such an injury to show signs of infection so quickly, but it would explain William's fever. At least there was no bone sticking out, the rib had obviously retreated back into the chest cavity, and she could only hope that the other end had found its way back to its original position as well.

For a moment Mrs. Hargrave debated whether to clean and disinfect the wound, but decided against it. She knew only too well what an ordeal William would be facing soon, and she did not want to add even more pain to it. In his weakened condition he could quite easily go into shock and then he would not be able to withstand the operation. She was counting on him to lose consciousness at some point - praying for it to be sooner rather than later - so there would be an opportunity afterwards to treat the infected area without him being aware of it. For the time being she took a folded piece of cloth, doused it with more water from the kettle and covered the wound with it. William gave a low hiss at the contact, but recovered quickly enough.

They had barely removed the bandages and settled William on his back again when the door opened and Mr. Buxton appeared, a basket with supplies over his arm. He was followed by a scullery maid who was carrying a steaming pot. She quickly set it down on the bedside table and almost ran from the room, stifling a sob. Obviously she wasn't the only one with a soft spot for young Master William, Mrs. Hargrave thought.

She liberally washed her hands with the alcohol before fishing the knife from the still hot water. After pouring more alcohol over the blade she pulled the funnel from the pot and set it with the big opening facing down on a freshly ironed kitchen towel within easy reach.

William was watching her preparations with growing apprehension. The blade of the knife looked wicked, and the thought that it would soon be cutting into him should have made him panic. But the constant struggle for breath had exhausted him, and he was beginning to feel light-headed from lack of oxygen, so he did not have enough energy for such a strong emotion. He only hoped that Mrs. Hargrave would not hesitate, and that it would be over quickly. If only he could tell her there was no need for her to be considerate, and that she should just go for it, but he didn't have enough breath to spare. As if she'd felt his gaze, the housekeeper turned to look at him. Her stern face softened for a moment, and she gave him a quick nod as if she'd read the unspoken plea in his eyes. William nodded back at her as a signal that he was ready. Then he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, steeling himself for what was to come.

He heard Mrs. Hargrave's instructions to his father and Erminia. "I will require you both on the other side of the bed, holding him still. Don't be afraid to sit on his legs if need be. He can cause himself irreparable damage if he tries to pull away from the knife, so no matter what happens, hold tight."

Her two assistants nodded solemnly, then they took their positions. William felt four sets of hands pinning him against the mattress. His already labored breathing became ragged as he waited for the first cut. When it came it was a searing pain in his side, and his mouth opened as if for a scream; but all his oxygen-starved lungs could manage was a strangled groan.

There was no reprieve, the blinding agony went on and on. At one point the knife seemed to meet some obstacle, and the additional pressure when the tip tried to force itself through sent shockwaves of pain through his chest and belly. In spite of Mrs. Hargrave's warning words and his earlier resolution not to pull away his instincts took over, trying to escape the sharp blade piercing his side. But his waning strength was no match for the four hands which gripped him, and try as he might they would not let him move an inch. Tears of pain and frustration started to seep from under his tightly closed eyelids, when with a jolt the knife pushed through the barrier, and the torment suddenly ceased. One final stinging slide told him the blade had been withdrawn, and he was able to relax slightly, the pain now at a manageable level.

Wiiliam's chest was heaving and his hearbeat was hammering in his ears; he realized there were voices talking but he could not understand any of the words. Then a cool hand came to rest on his feverish forehead, and he leaned into the touch, grateful for its comfort. After a while he managed to open his eyes, and saw that it was Erminia by his side. She was as white as a sheet, and her wide eyes were terrified although she tried her best to smile at him.

He knew he couldn't speak, but his lips managed to form the silent question, "... over?" His cousin bit her lip, then she shook her head. "Almost," she promised, then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders again, and William knew he should prepare himself for further unpleasantness. But he could not have anticipated that what was to come would be infinitely worse than the cutting part. His eyes flew open when a blunt object started to press into the canal the knife had carved before. It felt as if somebody was trying to force the white hot barrel of a shotgun between his ribs. This time a ragged scream was torn from him, and he bucked and writhed like a madman under the restraining hands, until finally merciful darkness took him away from this hell.


	6. Part 5: Mr Buxton

_**Author's Note: **__So here it is, the conclusion. I hope it will make up for some of the drama in the last chapters. Thank you for reading, and if you could take a minute to comment I would greatly appreciate it._

When William finally went limp Mrs. Hargrave breathed a sigh of relief. She had been praying for this moment as soon as she'd made the first cut, but the brave, stubborn boy had held out until almost the very end. She had managed to feed most of the funnel's spout into the slit between his ribs she had cut before so that only about an inch was left. What if it wasn't long enough? Taking a deep breath the housekeeper pushed the length all the way into William's chest, and to her immesurable relief a hiss of air escaped, followed by a trail of watery blood which soon became a constant trickle. Some of it soaked into the sheet before she managed to get the pan underneath the funnel's lip to catch it.

"Is it... is it done?" Mr. Buxton looked at her with hopeful eyes framed by an ashen face. Mrs. Hargrave wondered if she was looking as weary. She certainly felt like it.

"Yes," the housekeeper replied. "It's done. The fluid is draining, and we should see an improvement in Master William's breathing very soon." She started to rise from her kneeling position on the floor but found that the joints and muscles in her legs had locked. Her struggle to regain her feet did not go unnoticed, and she suddenly found a supporting hand on her elbow, helping her first to stand, and then to sit in the armchair by the bed.

"Thank you, sir," she mumbled, uncomfortable with accepting this kind of assistance from her employer.

"No, Mrs. Hargrave, it is I who have to thank you. I will be forever in your debt. Without you..." Mr. Buxton's voice broke at the horrifying thought of having to watch his son choke to death on his own blood.

"Please don't mention it, sir, I'm just glad I could help. Master William is an admirable young man, and he deserves a long, happy life."

Mr. Buxton nodded thoughtfully. "You are right. I've never put much store in the notion of happiness, but almost losing your child has a tendency to rearrange your priorities."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the bed, where Erminia still sat cradling her cousin's head in her lap. "Does that mean you'll give William and Peggy your blessing, uncle?"

"I need to have a think about that, but I will certainly consider it," her guardian replied, and Erminia lowered her face to hide a smile. It would take time for the old man to come to terms with changing his decision so radically, but it was a first step to reconciliation and ensuring William's happiness. Running her hand over the young man's wild curls she longed for the moment he would wake up. She couldn't wait to give him the encouraging news.

Mrs. Hargrave had recovered enough by then to remember that there was still one task to perform. She rose from the armchair and reached for the bottle of alcohol.

"When I removed the bandage I found that the wound on his back has started to become infected. We still need to clean it. Luckily it's very close to the side of his chest so we barely have to move him. Can I request your assistance one more time, Miss Erminia?"

"Always," the young woman said, looking up at the former nurse full of respect and gratitude.

"If my presence is not required, there are a few things I need to attend to," Mr. Buxton said, and with a slight bow to the two women he left the room. Walking into the entrance hall, he pulled the bell for stables. When the groom appeared, he instructed him to carry word to the surgeon that William was no longer in immediate danger. He did not want the doctor distracted while tending to a difficult case. When the lad had left Mr. Buxton noticed a sprig of gorse lying on a side table. He picked it up curiously. "Where did this come from?" he asked a maid who was lighting the wall sconces.

"Peggy Bell brought it by earlier. She asked to see Master William, but per your instructions I sent her away. She insisted on leaving this for him, though. I'm sorry, I didn't get around to throwing it out yet."

Mr. Buxton nodded thoughtfully before handing the small branch to the maid. "Put this in a glass of water and place it by William's bed," he instructed the surprised domestic before retiring to his study.

When the surgeon arrived later that night he was full of praise for their combined efforts in saving his patient. He replaced the funnel with a tube so the fluid could continue to drain while the lung was healing.

For a few days it was still touch and go. After everything he'd been through William's weakened body had little strength left to fight the infection in his back. When they had cleaned the wound after the operation, Mrs. Hargrave had noticed some streaks of dirt around its edges. They had only been able to give William a cursory wash when he'd been brought in muddied and bloody after the accident, since he required immediate medical attention. As a result, some kind of contaminant must have remained which entered the bloodstream when the rib broke through the skin.

Taking turns, the housekeeper, Erminia and Mr. Buxton kept a constant vigil by Williams side, applying cold compresses when his temperature spiked, stoking the fire and piling on blankets when he was racked by chills, and holding his hand when he cried out in anguish during his fever induced nightmares. But the times they feared the most was when he lay absolutely still, his breathing so shallow that they kept a small mirror by the bed to be able to satisfy themselves that he was even still alive.

William's youth and his strong constitution prevailed in the end, though, and his fever finally broke. The whole household rejoiced when he opened his eyes for the first time in days, and the kitchen staff went into overdrive, preparing all his favorite meals to help him regain his strength.

Feeling as weak as a kitten at first, William readily succumbed to being coddled and pampered, but as he slowly started getting stronger he became a very difficult and uncooperative patient. He was going out of his mind with boredom, although Erminia tried to distract him by reading out loud or by inventing word games and riddles. She also came to dread his constant enquiries about Peggy. The young woman had stopped by the house every day, leaving a sprig of gorse which was faithfully delivered to William's bedside. But in spite of his moment of contrition following his son's brush with death, Mr. Buxton had so far neither addressed the matter of marriage to Peggy Bell, nor had he lifted his ban on the young woman entering his house. And William was smart enough not to raise the issue with his father until he was strong enough to hold his own in a heated discussion.

So far the surgeon had only allowed William to leave his bed for short spells, so the young man was delighted when the doctor declared him fit enough to get dressed and leave his room, under the provision not to unduly exert himself, and to wear his still healing arm in a sling at all times.

Getting dressed with the help of his father's valet tired William more than he cared to admit, but the prospect of finally leaving these four walls was too tempting, and he put on a game face when Erminia came to take him to the drawing room across the hallway. At first the young man scoffed at his cousin's offer of assistance, but after he'd made it across his room he was glad to take her arm, and by the time they reached their destination he was leaning on her quite heavily. With a tired sigh he sank onto the sofa and leaned back, closing his eyes while waiting for his wildly beating heart to slow.

William had insisted on bringing the sprig of gorse with the buds along. It was the first one Peggy had delivered on that fateful day, and it had grown roots in the water so it could be potted in soil. When Erminia put the small white flower pot on a side table she noted William's panting breaths and quickly re-arranged the pillows so he could stretch out on the settee. Resting his head on his good arm, the injured one safely cradled in its sling across his chest, William drifted off into an exhausted sleep almost immediately.

Mr. Buxton had been away on business and was therefore unaware of his son's little excursion. So it came as a surprise to find William asleep on the sofa when he entered the drawing room in search of a book. Stepping closer, he ran his eyes over his son's figure, finally settling on his face. Some color had returned to the young man's features, and his cheeks had begun to fill our again, thanks to the delicacies forced on him by the kitchen staff. He looked content and healthy, such a stark contrast to when he was fighting for his life. Mrs. Hargrave's words about him deserving a long and happy life came back to Mr. Buxton, and looking at his son's tranquil and almost angelic face the last bits of the old man's pride and prejudice melted away.

When he was interrupted in his musings by a knock on the front door, he knew immediately who it was. Peggy's daily visits were as regular as clockwork. With a last indulging smile for his son, Mr. Buxton went to answer the door himself, and to invite the young woman into his house and his family.

**The End**

_**Another note: **_This is the part where I return to the events shown in the series; what follows here is the scene where Peggy finds William asleep on the sofa.


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